Page 14 of The Image of You

I listened to the sounds of her moving around. It seemed odd to have another person in my space. I liked my privacy, and with all my traveling, I wasn’t around much to have company.

I was grateful I had been to the store and gotten some groceries in the cupboards. Usually, I just ate a lot of takeout. The sounds coming from my rarely used kitchen made me grin, and I relaxed, letting the pills do their work. I drifted a little, my contentment lingering at the sound of her quiet humming as she puttered.

A touch to my face startled me, and I realized I had dozed off. Ally was sitting on the ottoman, smiling.

“You need to get to bed and rest,” she instructed affectionately. “I left a plate of sandwiches in the refrigerator for later.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and stood. “You said you wanted a shower. Why don’t you do that before I go home? I’ll wait and make sure you’re okay. I’ll tape some plastic to cover your dressing so it doesn’t get wet.”

I didn’t want her to go. I wanted some more time with her, but she looked weary after her long shift, and I knew she had to leave. I shuffled over to my cupboard, pulling out fresh clothes and disappearing into the bathroom.

I enjoyed the heat of the shower and felt better after having washed off the antiseptic smell. After dressing, I walked into the main room, noticing that my bed was straightened up, the covers pulled back, with the pillows fluffed and welcoming. Ally was waiting, and I was so tired I didn’t argue, slipping between the sheets to my usual spot in the middle of the bed and sighing in relief at the ice pack she wrapped around my aching shoulder.

“You have a few of these,” she observed with a touch of humor, perching on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m getting old. Holding a camera makes my arms ache sometimes.”

“Thirty-three is hardly old.”

I snorted. “Invasion of privacy again? Tsk-tsk. Only fair I get to know how old you are.”

“Twenty-five.”

I knew she was younger, although it was more due to appearance than to actions. Eight years younger than me didn’t seem like such a vast difference.

She ran her fingers through my hair. I had to stifle a groan at the sensation. Like most men, I loved having my hair stroked.

“How’s the head?”

“Okay.” I reached out, touching her hand, wishing I could find an excuse to get her to stay. “How can I thank you?”

“No thanks are needed.”

“Dinner,” I said. “Please have dinner with me.”

She bit her lip, worrying the plump flesh as she hesitated. I knew it was fast, but I wanted to see her again. I had never felt such a strong connection to someone.

“Please, Ally. It would mean a lot to me.” I grimaced as I tried to lift my head.

“Okay. But first, you need to stay still and give yourself a chance to recover. You need to sleep.”

“I need your number,” I mumbled, trying to fight off the drowsiness pressing down on me.

“I’ll leave it,” she promised.

The mattress shifted as I rolled closer to her and wrapped my hand around hers. “Just a few minutes. Stay for a few minutes.”

Something warm, light, and soft touched my head. “I’m right here, Adam.”

With those comforting words, I let the darkness claim me.

CHAPTER THREE

Consciousness came gradually. I was warm, comfortable, and my pillow smelled good. Better than good. It smelled amazing. Like the scent you get when walking past a garden in full bloom in the summer, a mixture of many soft floral scents blending into one spectacular inhale of fragrance. Clutching it tighter, I breathed in deep again. My pillow was unusually soft as well…and slightly ticklish. With great effort, I opened my eyes, frowning when I saw my pillow was bright coppery red.

Blinking, I realized it wasn’t my pillow I was clutching, but thick, rich, soft hair. Pulling back a little, I was shocked to find Ally lying beside me.